


Humans Can't Fly

by Lady_Akuma_Wolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drug Use (Mentioned), Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective!Gabriel, Sam's Wall Breaks, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Sam, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8592595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Akuma_Wolf/pseuds/Lady_Akuma_Wolf
Summary: After Sam's wall breaks thanks to Castiel, the memories of his time in Hell are haunting Sam more and more; the lack of sleep without killing himself - literally - wasn't helping. He didn't know what to do or where to go; he couldn't let Dean know just how bad it was. And so Sam found himself on the edge...Gabriel wasn't sure if he should be thankful or suspicious for the reasons his Father brought him back. Bastard hadn't said a peep, sent a letter, nothing. So he entertained himself, wandering around the world. His carefree ways are about to end, though....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, shame on me. I already have three other active stories, but this one wouldn't leave me alone, and I wanted to know what others thought, if it was worth it to continue.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Suicide, self-harm, depression, hallucinations.

He had no idea why his Father had brought him back to life after his brother killed him; bastard Father had been silent on the matter, no matter how many times Gabriel prayed for answers, one way or the other. So he gave up, choosing instead to enjoy his second chance at life. Wasn't like he didn't have anything to entertain him; humans were so much fun to mess with. And if, after his fun, the world had one less drug lord, rapist, murderer, sex trafficker, pedophile, or lying politician – goodness knows the world had a severe over-abundance of all of those creatures – all the better.

He was taking a break from his tricks and fun in the United States; he hadn’t bothered to really pay attention to where he went. It was late, wherever he was. The streets were almost empty, businesses closed except for the local bars, their doors propped open to vent stifling insides; the smell of cigarettes and sweat pouring out into the late summer air. One lone 24 hour gas station standing at the edge of town also was lit up Gabriel wandered by them with barely a glance. His angelic ears could hear rushing water, and he was curious.

Turned out the noise was from a rather impressive, swiftly moving, rock-studded river easily twenty yards across thirty feet below the bridge, which was lit by a couple of lights sporadically placed the length of the structure. The waters, barely illuminated by the lights on the bridge and the almost full moon overhead were swollen and angry; it must have rained here earlier.

In the shadows of a couple of trees, Gabriel closed his eyes and relaxed; the sound of water always had been enjoyable and relaxing. It helped him to calm himself, to stop worrying so much about an absent Father when the world appeared to be once again about to fall into Chaos, if it was lucky.

Stumbling, heavy feet made the Archangel look up; someone was in the middle of the bridge, leaning over to look at the raging water running; their upper body was hidden behind one of the bridge supports. He could hear their heart racing as if the human had been running, was angry, or was scared shitless. Intrigued, Gabriel watched the figure as they seemed to be arguing; maybe they were on the phone? Father knew the humans made those things to work just about everywhere these days, even in the middle of who-knows-where.

“No! Leave me alone!”

Arguing it was, then. Wonder who with…

“Please… just go away. Leave me alone… please.”

A stalker? Those were always fun to play tricks on.

“I’m so tired… just let me sleep, I’m begging you. Please.”

Gabriel frowned. A not-so-pleasant stalker, then. Not that there was ever a good kind. But to keep your target from resting? Humans needed their sleep. Gabriel purposely ignored the fact that he’d done exactly that to humans, and more than once. They had deserved it. The person’s voice, he was pretty sure it was a man, was so heavy and strained and hoarse, it was a wonder he was able to talk at all.

A sob. “Why won’t you leave me the fuck alone?!”

Gabriel was just about to walk over to the man, grab his phone and find out who was harassing him despite his confusion when the man moved…

… and was now _standing_  on the railing, and all that was stopping him from falling right down into the river below was a hand on one of the supports near one of the lights.

Oh, Hell no. Not on his watch.

Gabriel approached cautiously, making sure to kick a stone as he approached, not wanting to startle the human. “Hey, you ok, man?”

The figure didn’t twitch at the kicked stone or his voice, nor did he turn around. He rasped, “Leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that. Who’s bothering you? I'm good at stopping people like that.” Or getting rid of them, Gabriel mentally added.

“What is this, another trick?” The man was now leaning his forehead against the support beam, his breathing sharp and ragged.

“I don’t do tricks,” Gabriel lied; well, only a half-lie. He wouldn’t trick or hurt people like this man. “I help people, I don’t hurt people.”

“What do you call everything you did to me… down there?”

The Archangel frowned. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

“I know exactly who you are!” the man was becoming almost hysterical; the outburst and emotions fled the human as suddenly as they had appeared. “Why won’t you give me any peace, Lucifer? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

Gabriel froze at the mention of his Fallen brother’s name. This wasn’t a simple stalking, like he had first thought. He asked slowly, “Has Lucifer been bothering you?”

A humorless chuckle; Gabriel couldn’t see it, but he could hear it the next time he spoke. “You could say that. But then again, you’d already know, wouldn’t you?”

Gabriel took a few more steps; he was getting a better view of the human as he edged around the final support beam. Brown haired and tall, compared to most humans, but he appeared to be underweight; his clothes hung way too loosely. “No, I actually wouldn’t know. Doesn’t sound like he’s being very pleasant. Why is he bothering you?” he took a few more steps.

“He wants me back,” the man whispered. “But because he can’t, at least not physically. So he –” the man cut himself off.

“Did Lucifer kidnap you?” Gabriel asked when the human didn’t continue. He wasn’t sure if he could help a human with a mental illness causing them to hallucinate his brother; a broken mind isn’t like a broken bone. But he could, and would, try. Or he could knock them out and get them to a human hospital, if that failed.

“You know, Lucifer. You know _exactly_  the details of what you did to me. Why are you asking? Do you really think I’ll fall for your tricks again? Besides just being you, you pretended to be Dean, and even Cas. I might have fallen for it the first few times, but then I learned. Pretending to be a stranger isn’t going to work, either.”

Gabriel felt as though he’d suddenly gone skinny-dipping in the Antarctic; Dean, and Cas? As in, Castiel? No…

“Goodbye, Lucifer.” Sam Winchester whispered. Then he let go of the support beam, and fell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING, PLEASE NOTE!!! : GRAPHIC depiction of sexual assult leading up to rape (not shown); also description of self-harm and suicide aftermath.
> 
> DO NOT READ IF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU!!!

For several seconds, Gabriel was too stunned to react to the fact _Sam Winchester_ had just jumped off a bridge, after admitting his was hallucinating Lucifer. He couldn’t – didn’t – want to even imagine what kind of tortures his brother would’ve inflicted upon the younger Winchester, the human who was to blame for his return to the Cage. To have those memories haunting you so badly that you were hallucinating the being who had inflicted Father knew what?

He didn’t want to even think about the possibility that his brother was powerful enough to _actually_  be haunting Sam - if haunting was even the right word for it – from the Cage, buried in the deepest depths of Hell.

All of these thoughts sped through the Archangel’s mind within seconds. Then the realization of what Sam had just done hit him. Sam. Rock-studded, fast moving water.

Shit.

Gabriel found Sam caught underwater in the branches of a downed tree, almost a quarter of a mile down from the bridge. He grabbed the human and flew them instantly to his house outside of Portland, landing the human on the king-size bed.

The angel immediately started healing him, and what he found horrified him; his injuries went well beyond the scrapes and broken bones he would’ve sustained during his fall and trip down the river. Sam’s lungs were filled with river water, which Gabriel instantly removed. He also found deep, half-healed lacerations and burns all over Sam’s body, some of which were infected. They were healed in mere seconds. The broken bones, freshly snapped from the river took a little longer, but they too healed. The malnutrition confirmed Gabriel’s initial guess that he looked too thin under his clothing was correct; he doubted Sam had eaten much in weeks. There was nothing he could do about that, other than start feeding him right once he woke up.

But Sam’s heart was barely beating, stuttering every couple of beats; his Grace was having no effect. Though he had to admit, he was shocked it was still beating at all.

Then, as if it had heard him, Sam's heart stuttered to a halt.

“Oh _Hell_ no!”

Gabriel sent his Grace plunging head-long after the human, sending tendrils of it ahead of him into the darkness after Sam’s soul; but it kept falling, just out of reach. Gabriel forced his Grace further onwards, and managed to catch Sam’s soul as a fisherman nets a fish.

The Archangel winced as full-body pain slammed into him as soon as he brought Sam’s soul close to him; that shouldn’t be happening. But then again, he shouldn’t also be feeling another angel’s Grace, shoving Sam’s soul back to his body.

Lucifer.

Gabriel cocooned Sam’s soul in his Grace, blocking out his brother's Grace as much as he could; it worked, at least partially, he hoped. The pain coming from Sam’s soul, from where Lucifer’s Grace was touching, tormenting, Sam, lessened, though it was still there. Gabriel reversed direction, pulling Sam further away from his brother.

It was hard, holding Sam’s soul within his body and attempting to shock his heart back into working again, especially when Sam’s soul kept attempting to leave. But eventually (almost ten minutes later), Sam’s heart was beating steadily, and his soul was back within his body, though he remained unconscious.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Gabriel looked down at Sam’s face, framed by damp hair. He couldn’t understand what was happening, why Sam would want to end his life – beyond the fact he was seeing Lucifer, real or not – and where the fucking _Hell_  Dean was, and why he would leave Sam alone like this, let alone allow his brother sink this far.

A snap of the fingers later, Gabriel had the human bare, revealing just how much damage there was. He hadn’t paid any attention to how many wounds there were earlier, just that there were wounds, and they needed to be healed. Wide scars ran down the insides of Sam’s inner arms, wrist to elbow, length-wise and shorter, across ones. There were bullet wounds dotting his chest, especially over his heart and lungs; Gabriel had a sickening feeling this wasn’t the first time Sam had been driven to commit suicide. But how on Earth he had managed to survive that, he had no idea.

Then he remembered the Grace of Lucifer; was his brother strong enough to resurrect Sam from the depths of the Cage? He didn’t want to even think about that possibility.

He continued to observe Sam’s body. The once-muscled, well defined body of Sam Winchester was still moderately toned, but his cheeks were sunken, his skin sallow and cold, his muscles no longer… so muscled. The wounds continued over Sam’s abdomen and – Gabriel purposely ignored looking at Sam’s groin – continued down his thighs. Some of the ones here weren’t cuts or burns, but stab wounds. Inspection of the scars on the human’s stomach showed some of them were also from stab wounds. The knife scars were mostly new, within the past few months, at the most, and he drew the same conclusion from the bullet wound scars.

“Oh, Sam,” He murmured, tracing the bullet scars over his chest. “I wish you hadn’t been forced to go to such extremes, hurting yourself…” he swallowed. “Killing yourself. I don’t understand why… but I want to. I want to help. I will help you, I promise.”

Another snap of his fingers had Sam clothed in boxers, sweatpants and a t-shirt, and covered with warm blankets.

OoOoO

Gabriel was digging through large, heavy tomes older than some angels, trying to find out exactly how Lucifer was able to send his Grace so far from the depths of Hell, not to mention getting past the wards of the Cage. A glass of forgotten strawberry sweet tea sat sweating on the antique end table, and the stem of long-gone sucker stuck out of the corner of his mouth. So far, his search had brought up nothing.

“No! Stop, please stop. Please, don’t… please, please!”

The screamed plea brought Gabriel back to the present. He was at Sam’s side instantly. The human was still unconscious, writhing under the sheets, arms straight out away from him as if a parody of a cross, fists clenched and head thrown back.

Gabriel dove into Sam’s mind.

He found Sam in a large, metal barred box; the Cage. He was naked, strapped to a large wood table, arms flung wide, legs spread and bound. He bled from wounds on his arms, legs, sides, and chest. Lucifer stood on the other side of the table and Sam from Gabriel; he was holding a red-hot poker.

“Where shall we start today, my sweet bunkmate?” Lucifer trailed the free hand over Sam’s bare chest, making Sam flinch. “Leg? Chest? Back? Face? Or shall we do something far more fun…” He trailed his fingers lower, towards Sam’s groin.

“No…Please…” Sam rasped. “Please don’t…”

Lucifer grinned maliciously. “Oh, but I love making you scream and beg, Sammy. You do beg so prettily.” He tossed the glowing poker off to the side before leaning onto the table, staring down at Sam’s prone form.

Gabriel wanted to throw up when his brother lowered his hand between Sam’s legs, fingers first brushing against Sam’s balls, then moving forwards to his shaft, causing it to twitch, before taking it in his hand, pumping it slowly to plump fullness. He slid his hand up to the weeping head, wiping the leaking tip with his thumb and dragging the fluid down to the sensitive underside, and down to the base. When the head kept leaking, the Archangel leaned forwards and licked it, sucked it before standing back upright.

Sam, tears streaming down his cheeks and face flushed with shame, stared blankly at a point somewhere past where Gabriel stood as Lucifer stroked him into an orgasm, letting the cum paint Sam’s bare chest.

Sometime during the process, Lucifer had shed his own clothing. The Archangel paced around the table, his own half-up erection prominent, to lean over Sam, grabbing his chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. “Was that not fun, Sam? Was that not pleasurable?”

“No.” Sam forced out, trying to glare up at Lucifer through his tears. “Leave me alone.”

Lucifer smirked. “But I don’t want to leave you alone, Sam. I want to have fun. I want revenge. And when I can do both? Why on earth would I NOT take every advantage of doing so?” He rubbed his hand in the cum before rubbing himself into full erection, the skin on his shaft glistening with Sam’s cum; his other hand rubbed Sam’s own cock back into full erection.

Gabriel blinked, and suddenly Sam had changed positions, still strapped to the table but this time his stomach was down, some kind of triangular pad under his stomach, helping to raise Sam's rear in the air; Lucifer was kneeling between Sam's legs, erection pressing against Sam’s buttocks. He ran a finger down Sam’s back. “Are you ready, Sammy? Are you ready to feel good?”

Gabriel, swallowing the bile rising at the back of his throat, had seen more than enough. He threw his Grace outwards, shattering the nightmare – the memory, he was horrified to learn – and sending Sam back into blessed unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Enjoy!  
> Trigger Warning: reference to depression, self harm and suicide, and non graphic suicide attempt towards the end of the chapter.

In the end, after he withdrew from Sam’s mind Gabriel did end up throwing up, summoning a bucket into existence just in time as his stomach emptied itself. He squeezed his eyes shut, the images of what he had just witnessed flashing behind his eyelids.

When had Lucifer become so…. Not his brother? When he had still be in Heaven, Lucifer never had been that cruel; far from it. He would stand up to Michael and Raphael when they would attempt to bully the younger angels, or even him. He didn’t want to believe what he had seen. He wanted to believe it was some kind of trick by the demons of Hell (though he did doubt Crowley would’ve given the order – he seemed to have a soft spot for both Winchester brothers), but even in the memory, Gabriel could sense his brother’s Grace, and that wasn’t something even Crowley would be able to replicate.

Hell and the Cage had turned his once loving brother into a monster; a part of that could be laid at his Father’s feet for casting him out of Heaven and for building that horrid Cage. He wondered if there was even anything left of the Lucifer he had known inside of the… the creature he had just witnessed torturing Sam.

Sam.

Opening his eyes, Gabriel looked down at Sam. The younger Winchester’s eyelids were twitching, as if his mind was torn between the Hell of his dreams, and the Hell of waking up and facing life and Lucifer stalking him. He’d obviously done plenty of running away from both choices, and by the looks of some of the scars he’d seen on the hunters body that had involved multiple forms, suicide by his own hand and hunting monsters being the top two.

Gabriel had no doubt in his mind that Sam, whether he believed he was truly Gabriel, or Lucifer pretending to be, would try and escape the house. With a snap of his fingers, Gabriel sealed up the entire house; there was no way Sam would be able to leave through door or window (or wall, if the human decided he was desperate enough to break through a wall. Heaven knew Sam had no reason to love, like, or trust the Archangel). Gabriel also erected barriers to keep outside influences such as his brother and his Grace from gaining entrance to the house, as well as demons, should Sam attempt to call on any of them to help him. Gabriel doubted it, but he refused to take any chances in regards to Sam Winchester. He would have to work on the sigils and see if he could alter them to be attached to a living human being.

A groan from the bed draw his attention back to Sam, who was sleepily rubbing his eyes. After a moment, he suddenly paused and opened his eyes to stare confusedly at his hand, then the rest of his body, clothed and under a sheet. Then all of the memories from the previous night returning in an instant.

“What the Hell…”

Then he caught sight of Gabriel.

He jumped, shoving the sheet and blankets off of him to curl himself up, ready to run or jump or fight as he stared at the supposedly dead Archangel, his eyes holding equal amounts of anger, fear, and suspicion.

“You! How… how are you even alive?!” he demanded. “Lucifer killed you, back in that creepy hotel in the middle of nowhere.” Then his eyes clouded over. “Or am I still just seeing things… this is a new angle from you, Lucifer. Where am I, truly? Or are we just in my head again.”

Choosing not to approach the wary human, Gabriel instead leaned against the wall and snapped a new sucker into existence. “To answer your second question first, Sammich, no I am not my sadistic creep of an older brother. My house – ” he waved his hands around “ – is warded against outside invasions of any kind, including my brothers, and demons; none of them can get to you in here. So don’t think calling for one of them will help you escape.”

Here Gabriel paused, running a hand over his face with a sigh. “As for your initial question… I did die that night. Lucifer saw through my illusions and stabbed me with an Angel Blade. All I know is that my Dad brought be back about a month after that, though He has yet to tell me why or anything else, which has become very typical of Him.”

Sam was still watching him warily, though his body had started to relax. “Why…. Why did you save me? How did you even know I was there? I thought Castiel’s bone sigils hid us from all Angels.” A flash of sorrow darted through Sam’s eyes at the mention of the seraphim; something Gabriel would have to ask him about later.

“I just happened to be in the neighborhood, and wanted to see the waterfall.” When Sam looked at him skeptically, he raised his hands defensively. “I swear to Dad, Sam. I was taking a break from my games and just decided to poof myself somewhere, and there you were on the bridge.”

“So you just happened upon me, is that it?"

Gabriel nodded wordlessly.

“But why did you save me?” Sam asked softly, confusion in his eyes. “Why did you bother?”

“Because it was the right thing to do. Because I like and care about you, Sam.”

“Why?!” cried Sam. “Why do you care? No one else does! I fuck up everything I touch, I hurt everyone I come into contact with, if they don’t even up dead! I wanted to die, Gabriel! I want it all to stop! It’s the only way I can stop messing it all up!”

“Just because you’ve made some mistakes in the past, doesn’t mean that you’re never going to be able to do otherwise, Sam. Humans, including yourself, learn from their mistakes.” Gabriel told him. “People, especially some with such an amazing mind like yourself can do that; you don’t need to resort to killing yourself.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve tried, Gabe. Trust me, I have. I just end up finding new ways to mess it all up. Dean was right to leave.”

 Gabriel blinked in surprise. He knew both Winchesters, especially this one had screwed up heads and could be counted on to blame themselves for anything and everything bad that happened around them (though it typically was the case – see their full life-story for details) – but for one of them, for Sam, to turn to self-harm and suicide to try and end it all… he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact. Not to mention, though they definitely had their (very) rough patches, in the end, the two brothers were always there to back each other up.

Until now.

“Where is Dean, Sam?”

Sam’s eyes dropped from staring at Gabriel to the mattress in front of him, but not quickly enough for Gabriel not to see the deep pain flash in his eyes. “I dunno where he is,” he murmured quietly. “I woke up one day” – without meaning to, Gabriel saw a flash of how Sam had been sleeping: by downing a bottle of sleeping pills –  “and he was gone.”

Gabriel shoved away the rage he felt at the fact that Dean had abandoned his brother – without even realizing he was dead on the bed beside him! – and tried to focus on the human in front of him, who didn’t need to see rage, whether it was for him or not.

“His loss is my gain then!” he said cheerfully as he pushed himself off of the wall. He dearly wanted to talk to Sam about all of the scars he had seen on his body, many of which he knew had been in Sam’s desperate attempts at sleeping without Lucifer dancing in his head, but he felt he had pushed the human far enough for now. Instead he asked, “You hungry, Sam?”

Sam shook his head.

Gabriel frowned. “You need to eat something, Sammoose. At least have some fresh fruit. I promise I’ve not tampered with it.”

After quite a bit more wheedling Gabriel finally got Sam to come downstairs and eat, though he barely made it through a glass of water, half of a pear, and a couple of strawberries before excusing himself and quietly asking Gabriel where the bathroom was so he could shower. Gabriel walked him back upstairs, down the hallway and past the bedroom he had woken up to the bathroom. It was just about as big as the bedroom, with a standing glass shower with a waterfall showerhead coming out of the ceiling and a bathtub big enough for four people was in the opposite corner. There was soap and shampoo in the shower. Everything from the paint to the floor tiles to the towels was, surprisingly, was in warm shades of cream and chocolate (ok maybe not so surprising) rather than bright candy colors.

“Um, thanks, Gabriel.” Sam muttered, not meeting his eyes. “Don’t suppose you have any razors? I could really use a shave.”

Gabriel frowned at him. “I’m not letting you near anything even remotely sharp or deadly, Sam. I’ve seen your scars.” When Sam opened up his mouth to argue, Gabriel help up a finger to silence him. “You are not in danger from my brother here, other than in your nightmares, and I believe I can help you with those, too. There is no reason for you to attempt to escape him, or me. I am not going to hurt you. Our original meeting notwithstanding – ” Sam snorted “ – I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

“You call wanting me to give into your ‘sadistic brother’ and let him use me to destroy the world not wanting to hurt me?” Sam spat, meeting the Archangel’s eyes for the first time since he woke up. “I sure as Hell don’t!”

Gabriel glared at Sam. “That was a foolish mistake on my part. I changed my mind, remember? It’s how I ended up with an Angel Blade in my chest.” He took a slow step towards the human, who stiffened, but didn’t step back. He reached up and touch his cheek and chin with the back of his hand; the hair vanished, better than any shave would have ever done.

Satisfied, the Archangel stepped back and smiled. “There, no need for a shave.” He waved at the inset cabinet to the left of the door. “There’s bubble bath and Epsom salts in there if you want a relaxing bath. I’ll be upstairs, so just holler if you need anything.”

OoOoO

Sam wasn’t sure what to make of his awakening to be confronted not by Lucifer, Dean, or – what had expected most – to wake up underwater, and to drown all over. There was a reason he had picked that river in particular; it had quite a lot of fallen trees beneath its surface, and had claimed many lives of unwary swimmers and the occasional jumper, like him.

But to wake up in a bed, in dry clothes (that he was pretty sure weren’t the ones he’d jumped into the river wearing), to see Gabriel…

… not even on the list of possibilities.

He still had the fear it was all an illusion created by Lucifer; wouldn’t be the first time and wouldn’t be the last Lucifer would create an illusion where Sam had seemingly ‘woken up’ from his torment; the worst had been waking up and being ten years old, his mother shaking him awake from a nightmare. He had learned not to trust anything that he saw or felt, at least until he found a more permanent solution to his current problem, staying dead.

It wasn’t because he wanted attention or pity. In fact, part of the reason was to escape the attention of Lucifer and his brother. Pity… he hadn’t had that for a very long time, and he didn’t want it anyways. It was more that he wanted to just be done. Every time he fought, he just made things worse for his brother, not to mention the world. Hell, Dean even managed to make Castiel’s death his fault, which, for once, wasn’t.

But everything else…

It would be better, this way.

Sam stifled a yawn. He hadn’t been dead long enough to get the rest he’d been hoping for, since lately it was the only way he could rest without the nightmares, filled with flashbacks of Hell, of his brother’s hatred, and anything his mind or Lucifer could conjure up. This last time, he’d made it almost six days on black coffee and energy shots before he’d fallen asleep researching the disappearances of children (it turned out to be a Pied Piper. All but one of the children were still alive when he finally managed to find them in a cave – hiding a gaping wound in his side – after killing the creature). The nightmares always seemed to worsen the longer he forced himself to stay awake.

He turned the shower on mechanically, still turning thoughts over in his mind as he allowed it to warm up. He stripped out of the plain jeans and gray long sleeved shirt Gabriel had dressed him in. Sam shuddered at that thought. Being bare in front of anyone, even his brother… he hadn’t been able to do so since the wall Death had erected in his mind had been shattered by Castiel.

Castiel. Sam found that he couldn’t blame the angel for what he had done, in hindsight. He had been trying to do what was right, in the end, no matter that it wasn’t a good way to go about it Even Dean, while mad at the angel, was mourning the loss of his friend.

He stepped under the hot spray, and closed his eyes. God, he was so tired…

OoOoO

Mentally kicking himself as he left Sam to clean up, Gabriel snapped his fingers to move all of the sharp objects from kitchen knives and scissors to pens and pencils into his workroom on the third floor, then flashed himself up there.

As soon as he was upstairs, alarms in place to let him know when Sam came out of the bathroom, he started pacing.

He didn’t understand what had driven Dean to abandon his brother, but he was just a few paces away from tracking him down and giving him a pieces (read: several pieces) of his mind, after breaking his nose (which was better than his neck).

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with a damaged Winchester, who was afraid of him (if he even believed it was really Gabriel) because of what his Lucifer had down to him in the Cage, his attempts to reach Sam and make him say yes, and Dad knew what else.

That thought had Gabriel swallowing back bile that threatened to remove itself from his stomach and throat. It would’ve been bad enough of Lucifer to torture Sam with beatings, cutting, removing and then reattaching body parts. But to do what he had done….

He could keep Sam here and keep him alive, yes. But what after that? He wasn’t used to helping humans, usually he did the opposite (though they always deserved what he gave them and more). He didn’t know what to do, and it wasn’t like there was a 1-800 number he could can and ask for guidance, seeing as a certain Father figure wasn’t responding to his calls.

There wasn’t really anyone left in the Winchester’s lives he could ask who wouldn’t tip off Dean as to who had Sam, though they’d never find them in the first place. Bobby would. Castiel… Castiel had less of an idea that Gabriel did on how to interact with humans, much less pull one back from the edge. Not to mention he was probably riding around with Dean. Briefly he wondered why Castiel would go along with Dean’s idea of abandoning Sam, not to mention not even noticing when Sam died just so he could get some sleep…

…unless he had. Dad help Castiel if he’d known and didn’t do a damn thing about it. Gabriel would never forgive his brother if that was the case.

It would be a lot easier for him to track down his own brother instead of Dean. He’d have to do so once Sam was asleep again – this time, with some help from him and not killing himself, or downing a bottle of booze and sleeping pills which would  quite possibly kill him anyways.

Why was he doing this in the first place?

Gabriel wasn’t sure. Sure, any (good) human who had done what Sam had done in front of him he would’ve gone after and saved. But any other human he would’ve taken to the closest hospital and left them in the care of human professionals who knew how to handle cases of humans wanting to kill themselves.

But Sam…

“Yes, Doctor. I tried to kill myself because it’s the only way I can actually sleep with out Lucifer coming and torturing me in my dreams. Yes, that Lucifer. He’s in a Cage in Hell, by the way, not running or ruling it; that’s currently the demon Crowley. He’s actually alright for a demon. Anyways, I was stuck in there with him for awhile, you see, the human equivalent of over a century (time passes a lot differently down there, you see). He was mad that I didn’t give him permission to possess me to fight his brother Michael – who would’ve taken over my big brother Dean’s body, by the way – and had a huge-ass brawl to the death, which would’ve destroyed pretty much the entire world. The Angel of Death came and got my soul out (seeing as my body was already back on Earth. Don’t even get me started on that part of my story) – and now, furious, Lucifer is stalking my dreams and torturing me out of anger because I escaped him again. So I kill myself to get some sleep. Oh and by the way, I’ve been successful in my suicide attempts many times before this attempt, but Lucifer keeps bringing me back to life.”

Yeah, sure. That’d go over wonderful. Then they’d test, and poke, and prod, and drug Sam up and study him for the rest of his life.

Gabriel sighed and resisted the urge to punch or break something. “Was this what you brought me back for, Dad? To save the Winchester? What the He – heck am I supposed to do with him?”

No answer. Not that he’d been expecting one, anyways.

One of his alarms went off in his head, but not the one to alert him when Sam left the bathroom.

It was the one to tell him if Sam’s heartrate dropped below the normal human rate.

In a blink, Gabriel was downstairs in the bathroom. The shower was still running, but Sam wasn’t in it.

Sam was in the tub which was starting to overflow, and he wasn’t on the surface.

Swearing, Gabriel threw himself across the room and pulled Sam’s limp body out of the water and onto the tiled floor.

“Don’t you _dare_  die on me, Winchester! I don’t care if Luce’ll bring you back, you don’t know if he will!” A touch of Grace and the water was gone from his lungs; another bit of Grace brought his heart-rate up, pumping the now-oxygenated blood to his brain and the rest of his body. He shook the human’s shoulders. “Wake up, Sam! Sammy!”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: scene of graphic torture/mutiliation, references to torture and rape

Sam woke up coughing, air rushing into his (surprisingly water-free) lungs. The ground was cold and wet beneath his body as it was wracked with his coughs. In the back of his mind he remembered what had happened as he caught his breath. He had decided on a hot bath, the chill of the river still clinging to his bones despite his unfortunate ‘swim’ having happened at least several hours prior. Lucifer did that sometimes. Brought him back and healed him, but would leave behind the pain as a reminder, a punishment, a threat to never again repeat that stunt.

But it had been Gabriel who had saved him that time, his mind argued back. Perhaps he’s on his brother’s side!

Or perhaps Sam had just died so many times… he was always cold…

But in the end, Sam always killed himself again, perhaps a different way but always for the same reason; sleep.

At the last second he had also turned on the shower, more as a background noise in case his saving angel (there was a conflict, the Trickster Archangel a saving angel? Hah!) decided to eavesdrop on him.

He had eased into the huge tub, ignoring the still-pink scars on his body, flecked among the older white ones. The heat was welcome, seeping into him, making him even more tired than before.

Maybe this had been a bad idea…

Or maybe not. If he drowned, he’d get some sleep unattended by Lucifer. He knew Gabriel had said his home was warded against such penetrations, even against his own brothers, but Sam had a feeling that if there was a way, even a small, hairline crack in the defenses, that Lucifer would find a way through it and to him.

With that thought in mind, Sam had breathed out a shaky breath, slipped below the water, and gave into the darkness gnawing at the back of his mind; he inhaled deeply.

Apparently, Gabriel had either been eavesdropping over the sound of the shower, or had felt his heartrate drop. Or had been watching, the creep.

“What in my Father’s name were you  _thinking_ , Sam?” Gabriel asked behind him.

Sam froze, realizing that he was naked – well, almost naked, Gabriel must have snapped up some boxers onto him – but either way… to be almost naked, with an Archangel behind him… that had never, ever gone well in the past. And the fact that there was a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Woah, woah. Easy there, Sammich.” Gabriel admonished with Sam attempted to jerk out of the angel’s grasp and move away.

Becoming frantic, Sam rolled over, fist flying towards Gabriel’s face. In an instant he disappeared, only to reappear a few feet away, still on his knees, clothes still soaked from pulling Sam from the tub, his open hands outstretched and placating. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sam.” He murmured, locking eyes with the scared human; he knew what had triggered Sam’s fear, and it made him sick. “Why did you try to drown yourself?” he waved his hand instead of snapping his fingers, bringing a large, candy-orange colored towel off of the nearby shelf to drape itself over Sam’s shoulders.

Sam dropped his eyes as he pulled the towel tightly around himself. “I didn’t… not really. Well, kinda.”

Gabriel laced his fingers together in front of him and rested his arms on his knees and waited expectantly for Sam to continue; pushing here would be a mistake. Sam had been pushed enough, by angels, by his own brother, by everyone.

“I’m just…” he sighed. “I’m so, so tired. But whenever I try to rest,  _he’s_ always there, taunting me, hurting me… reminding me. And after… I’m still exhausted.” Sam finally looked up at him. “Dying is the only place I get any rest without _him_ there, and the only way I actually wake up feeling rested.”

“How many times have you done this, Sam?” asked Gabriel quietly, watching Sam’s face intently. "

Sam snorted humorlessly. “I don’t know; I’ve lost count.” Misinterpreting the look which passed over Gabriel’s face, he added, “I try and wait as long as I can, a week or more, at least at first. Now…” he rubbed his face absently. “Now, three, maybe four days is all I can take before…”

“Before you kill yourself just to escape Lucifer.” Gabriel finished when the hunter didn’t. “Is it memories, or does Lucifer actually visit you?” Most likely not possible, given the wards on the Cage. But if Michael decided to give aid to his brother in revenge against the human who had trapped them in there…

“Memories are a lot of it, at least when I’m sleeping.” Sam answered shakily. “When I’m awake… I’m not sure if it’s really him, or if it’s just my mind. Maybe he did something down there – ” he flinched. “ – to my mind, so that if I ever escaped him, or he wasn’t right there, I still wasn’t away from him.”

Gabriel frowned; that sounded like his brother. Later, he would have to check Sam’s mind for any such things rooted amongst the torture of the Cage, and purge any such malevolent presence.

The fact it wasn’t just when Sam was asleep that he was seeing Lucifer was also concerning – frightening, actually. He would have to find a way to stop that. In the meantime, however, Gabriel would not – could not – allow Sam to continue to kill himself just to get some rest unmolested and untortured by his brother.

“I really don’t think Luci can get past my wards to you, even if he does have a foothold in your mind.” Gabriel informed Sam, climbing to his feet. “I do however, think I have an idea for how we can deal with your nightmares.”

“‘We’?” Sam asked warily as pushed himself upright, hands clinging to the towel around his torso, shivering slightly.

“Yes, we.” Gabriel rubbed his hands together. “While you are resting, if I remain in physical contact with you, I should be able to divert any nightmares which flare up. I could probably even get your mind to play any particular memories you’re fond of. And before you freak out on me, ‘physical contact’ means a hand on your shoulder, or something similar. Both of us fully clothed. We can even do it on a sofa, if you’d prefer.”

Sam shook his head, causing some of his hair to fall across his face. His body was tight, still. “N-no. I’ll be… I’ll be fine.”

“I am not having you kill yourself in my house, Sam.” Said Gabriel sternly.

“Then let me go.”

The Archangel shook his head. “Don’t think so, Samsquauch. You were put in my path for a reason, and I am not going to let you keep falling further than you already have.” Why the  _Hell_ has your own brother let you slip so far?! Was another question he wanted answered, but Gabriel had a he wouldn’t like the answer. Once Sam was situated, he fully intended to find Dean and find out why he had abandoned his brother. And Castiel… he wasn’t sure how to deal with his own brother yet. His younger brother, anyways.

“So you’re just going to keep me locked up in your house?” Sam asked quietly, eyes fixed on the floor.

Gabriel knew where Sam was drawing the parallels from, and didn’t like it. “I am keeping you here until we figure a way to keep my asshole brother from hurting you any further than he already has, yes.” He informed the hunter. “Other than leaving, you are free to do what you want. I have internet, a gourmet kitchen that’s fully stocked, and a library of both hunting references, human classics, and a lot of modern books as well. If you research up a hunt, I’ll make sure it gets to your brother and mine so they can dispatch it.”

Predictably, Sam flinched at the mention of his brother. Deciding to pretend he hadn’t noticed, Gabriel continued, “I’ll be around for the most part. And if there’s ever a time I’m not and you need me, all you have to do is pray to me and I’ll fly right to you.”

“Thought your wards didn’t allow prayers out.” Sam asked.

Gabriel snorted. “They let anything addressed to  _me_ – either me, actually. I still get prayers for Loki too –  through, silly.  _T_ _hat_ would just be silly.”

Sam snickered, seemingly despite himself as he wrapped the towel even tighter around himself. “Excuse me, how foolish of me to assume otherwise.”

Gabriel smiled; it was a small victory, getting Sam to smile, but he’d take it, he decided as he motioned for Sam to follow him. “Come on,” he waved a hand to Sam, who hadn’t moved. “I have some flannel pajamas that’ll fit you, with some adjustments, of course. After that, I think it’s time for some hot chocolate to warm you up. The  _real_ stuff, not some powdered crap.”

It took some – aka quite a lot – more wheedling to get Sam to put the flannel pajamas on, let alone join him in the kitchen, but it happened. Only after the first button down top Sam put on ripped through the shoulders – he had lost quite a lot of weight and muscle, but he was still huge – Gabriel fixed it and adjusted the size of the top to fit Sam’s huge/thin frame… after he stopped laughing.

While Gabriel went into the kitchen, gathering together ingredients for his Super Duper Sweet Chocolately Hot Cocoa Goodness Guarenteed to Warm You to the Bones and began whipping up enough for two huge mugs, Sam was reading the titles of the books lining the shelves in the living room on either side of a huge stone fireplace. Titles included the Harry Potter series (first edition European, Philosopher’s Stone, not the Americanized Sorcerer’s Stone nonsense), a couple of hunting historicals, a series documenting the arrivals of the new supernatural creatures to the New World and their interactions with the species already there, and another series comparing how similar supernatural creatures evolved with no contact, such as shifters and werewolves in pre-discovered American verses Europe. The Native Americans understood the supernatural a lot better than the Europeans, barring the hunters that rose up from the lower classes to stop creatures from preying on their own, and several other old books.

“Are these… are these are real?” Sam  pulled a diary of a hunter from the 1400s in modern-day United Kingdom. It was written in English – albeit with terrible hand-writing and spelling – and rather accurate sketches of the different creatures he had faced and a few cursed objects.

Gabriel smiled at the hunter’s interest. “Yup. A lot of what I have are duplicates of the original that I made. But some, including that journal, is an original. A distant relative of the original Van Helsing, as a matter of fact.”

 Sam sank onto a couch with the book. “Is there a place where these are kept?” he asked, fingers tracing the delicate itching in the leather cover of the journal, depicting a devil’s trap he hadn’t seen before. “Why haven’t any of the hunters ever heard about it?”

Gabriel debated telling him about the Men of Letters, and the bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, but decided to hold off, at least on the bunker’s location. Wasn’t like they could currently access it, anyways. “I believe the European group is still active, but the American one was wiped out in 1958 by a very powerful demon.” Well, Knight of Hell, but still technically a demon. He grabbed two huge mugs from the cabinet and poured his concoction into them. “One jumbo marshmallow, or two?”

Sam tore his eyes away from the first few pages of the journal. “Um, one, I guess. What groups are you talking about?”

Gabriel dropped one marshmallow in Sam’s mug and three into his, popping a fourth whole into his mouth. After he chewed and swallowed, he said, “The Men of Letters. They were researchers, archivists of anything and everything supernatural. Knowledge, locations, artifacts, patterns, any illusive tidbit of information, you name it.”

Sam huffed. “Cool.” He meant it, too. He enjoyed the research part of their – the job. Looking through historical records, deciphering dad’s journal… to have a whole _building_ with nothing but books like these? What a wondrous place.

Perhaps being held captive here wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, as he curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace Gabriel had lit, the journal open in his lap. The cocoa the angel and whipped up – not snapped up, but made from scratch – was very tasty, and did help to warm him up.

Then again, he should have known it was too good to be true.

Gabriel had to leave, receiving a call for help for his ‘other’ half – aka Loki the Trickster – and popped out with a promise to be back as soon as he could, sternly telling Sam to pray for him if he needed anything.

The journal – one Henry von Haelsing – _was_ very interesting. He trained other hunters in addition to his own hunting missions, leaving a hunter with at least some skills and knowledge every few villages all over the countryside, with the ability to teach others. It was a lot better than nowadays. Perhaps if it was, if hunters taught people how to defend themselves, then perhaps more people would be saved.

Sam was enjoying what he was reading, but he hadn’t slept in five days. He tried to stay awake, he truly did.

OoOoO

His back felt like it was on fire; perhaps it was. It wasn’t like he could turn around and check, strapped upright and spread eagle, hanging from his wrists; his ankles we chained to the floor. A collar with spikes facing inwards was around his neck, not allowed for any movement without even more pain was connected to the chains which bound his wrists. Cuts and brands decorated his bare skin, the smell of blood and burned flesh a smell he was, sadly, used to by now.

He didn’t even want to think of the searing pain between his legs; he was sure he would’ve passed out from the pain, if he would’ve been allowed to. There was no sweet darkness of unconsciousness in the Cage.

“Don’t worry, Sammy.” Lucifer crooned, trailing a cherry-red piece of wire from his knee and up his inner thigh, past the bloody remains of his crotch. “I’ll reattach it later, I promise.” His dark eyes flickered to the floor a few feet away where he had tossed Sam’s cock and testicles after slicing them off; at least he had cut them off this time instead of tearing them off with his bare hands...

The wire took a turn and touched the inside of his bellybutton; he swallowed a scream, biting his cheek until it bled, which only seemed to amuse Lucifer even more as he moved it to press against Sam’s right nipple.

“Why, Sammy, trying to spare us?” he asked in mock concern. “Scream all you want, if it’d make you feel better. Not like it’s gonna bother us. Perhaps it’ll even draw some attention! Perhaps we can start charging admission to watch. Imagine how much some demons would pay to see _Sam Winchester_ being torn limb from limb, flayed alive, dissected, or fucked in the ass by Lucifer himself!”

Sam attempted to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “Either way,” he rasped, “ you’re still stuck in here. No matter what you do to me, I’ve still won, in the end.”

Lucifer’s eyes went bright with rage. “Then I’d better show you just how furious I am!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
